Heaven
by eatyourhartout
Summary: In order to battle The Darkness Amara, Cas goes to find an old friend. Someone he met before the Winchesters. Someone from heaven. A series of one-shots that popped into my head. Mentions of other characters.
1. Heaven Sent

She was sitting on the roof of a hotel when finally he came. Her legs dangled casually over the edge of the roof, her lithe body balanced on the narrow wall that separated her from the safety of the solid roof and a lethal fall. He knew she would sense him immediately.

"I wondered if you would ever visit me." She said quietly. Cas tilted his head to the side.

"You remembered me?" He asked her, his voice even lower than usual. Cas was surprised, and more than a little pleased that he had not been forgotten in the years they had spent apart.

"I remember everything. All of it. I haven't forgotten a single minute. Not that time mattered while I was there. I can't. Forget, that is." He had to strain to hear the response, she was so quiet. He sighed, and gave into his baser wants and walked over to her. She didn't turn to face him, her body remaining as relaxed as it ever could. But he could read the tension coiled in her body, never quite at rest. Always alert, always vigilant for the next attack, the next threat.

"Then I am sorry I did not come sooner. I missed our time together in heaven." She shrugged, her hair floating around her face in an errant breeze.

"It's ok. In the beginning I think I resented you for not coming. For not taking me back. But it's been a long time Castiel. Now, I have so much to do. There is so much work to be done. The newest batch of mini's are just starting their training, the most recent graduating class of the junior slayers have been shipped out, and most of the veterans are either teaching or gearing up for apocalypse season. Giles tells me that Faith and the Sunnydale potentials have it covered, but I can't help but think that I should be there helping them. But the new Council thinks that I would be best suited to focusing on building relationships with the governments of the world, of working to keep humanity safe with nobody but the very top of government knowing. I think I've met my fill of slimy politicians. At least the President isn't so bad. Although, his cabinet leaves more than a little to be desired…." Buffy trailed off, staring into the distance. Finally she looks at him, and the angel of the lord finds himself with his breath taken away. This woman, this warrior, this champion for the light, was beautiful. Not just aesthetically, the way Dean would point out (although he does admit she is very well proportioned), but to her core. The Slayer had the most beautiful soul he'd ever seen. It had grown more blinding in her time away from heaven, and Cas found himself drawn to her, just as he had been in heaven. But now was not the time to be ensnared by her captivating eyes, or to allow himself to give into the more human feelings he had been learning about. He had a purpose for coming here.

"My friends call me Cas now." He offers, in what he knew was a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. To stall just a few moments longer in what he came here to ask. To give him a few extra seconds to take in her strong body, her green eyes and gold hair.

"We both know you didn't come here to tell me that Cas. So what's the what? Is the world ending from someplace that is not the current active hellmouth?" She asked him tiredly. He feels… guilty, yes that's the word, guilty, that he was to ask for her aid. But Amara was not a villain that Sam and Dean could battle on their own. And The Slayer had defeated the thing that made Amara evil, having sealed up The First more than a decade prior. She would an important ally to defeat The Darkness.

"We are facing an ancient evil. A force born not long after The First. She has escaped her prison, and we require the assistance of The Slayer." She heaved out a resigned sigh and drew her legs back over the edge.

"Let me pack a bag. You can tell me the details on the way." Cas can't help but smile at her a little, relieved she said yes. She may have been torn away from him, but today, she might as well be heaven sent.


	2. Wrong

She sat on the edge of the crypt, watching the graveyard around them. He'd brought her here first, a chance to be with her before the they went to the Winchester brothers. Before he made her face another apocalypse. Something inside him warned him that the coming days would be dark, and he wished to give her a little light before then.

Oddly enough, for them, light was killing demons, in a cemetery, at night. She swung her legs casually, leaning back on her hands, stake firmly gripped in hand. She kept her eyes trained on the sky, but Castiel know better than to believe that she isn't aware of everything around her. She doesn't look at him when she begins to speak.

"You know, when I came back, everything was… so terribly bright, and painful and violent. And I was so screwed in the head and I was doing everything wrong and when Tara finally found out what Spike and I had been doing, What we had been doing to each other… I so badly wanted her to tell me I came back wrong. That I was an abomination. Because if I was, then I could justify all the things I had been doing, the thing I had allowed to happen to me, and the things I had done to others. If I came back wrong, I wasn't accountable. But then Tara said I hadn't, that what had happened was like getting a sunburn. Different, but ultimately not harmful, or wrong." She snorted, shaking her head. Cas remained quiet. Even after she had been torn away, he had looked for her, guided her when he could, shielded her where he could. But it had taken him years to go looking for her, to learn to exert his free will. He had no idea what had been happening to her after she had been stolen from him. Buffy glared at the ground, as she slipped off the crypt, quiet feet circling to the other side, where he absently noticed a fledgling vampire emerging from the ground. Effortlessly she pulled it out before staking the demon through the heart. She turned back to look at him, not even out of breath.

"But then I got shot. And they tell me I died a third time. And then when we fought The First, and I was run through with a sword and they tell me, just for a few minutes, I died a fourth. And over the years, it's happened to me over and over and over. I die, just for a minute or two, or recover from injuries that would have killed any other slayer, would have killed any of the minis." She looked at Castiel, and he looked back at her. Really looked. And what he saw stole his breath away. A beautiful gift and a terrible curse. She came back to his side of the crypt, green eyes heavy with fear and grief much to old for a woman so young.

"Tell me Cas, did I come back wrong?" Castiel had nothing to say.


	3. The Powers that Don't

"You know I've met them?" She tossed out casually, sipping on her drink. Castiel watched his friends look at the Slayer in confusion.

"Who?" Dean asked curiously.

"The Powers." Buffy replied.

"The who?" Sam asked, confused.

"The Powers that Be. The big whatevers in the sky that like to mess with our destinies." She replied airly, completely ignoring the shocked look on both men's faces.

"When did you meet them?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Let's go with who the hell these 'Powers' guys are." Dean growled into his own drink, peering over the rim to watch the Slayer warily. Dean still doesn't quite trust Castiel after Purgatory, even if he has worked to try to prove himself a worthy ally to the brothers again. Buffy kicked her feet up onto the chair across from her, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"The way Giles talked about it, in the beginning, the real beginning, before God, before demons, before Earth and Death and angels and humans, this dimension was a place of empty nothingness. Then came the First, and after that the Darkness, or I guess it's Amara now. And at some point - no one is sure in what order - the Powers, God, Death, and the Old Ones came along. The Old Ones are demons in their purest forms;" she looked at the brothers Winchester, her sandwich pointed at them "Not your corrupted soul demons, but the real ones. Powerful and corporeal and violent and evil. Then as those guys lost their hold in this reality, that made room for all the lower beings to come along; mortal animals, angels, man. The Powers were forced to flee this world back when The Old Ones were around, but now they live as these guiding forces for good. Right up there with God. Or maybe one better than God now, they're more powerful and not matter how irritating they are, they at least, are still invested in giving a shit about the balance."

"And how did you meet them? When? Where?" Sam asked, his questions firing at her quickly.

"Better question, where the hell are they now when we need them? They're worse than God. The Powers watch and guide, but sit back when real shit goes down?" Dean growled. Castiel wished he could do something to defend his father but at the same time, his friends were not wrong. The higher beings did little to interfere beyond sending champions. Like Buffy. Buffy sighed, her face slightly pinched.

"Yeah, Fred used to call them the Powers that Screw You. Before she was killed and taken over by an Old One. But Illyria is reformed now. I think. Angel has it under control." Buffy nodded to herself, even as the brothers exchanged confused glances. She looked up.

"Oh, when I met the Powers?" She turned to look at Cas for a moment, "You know, weirdly enough Cordy was one of them, when I died. The second time. She'd back now, or I think she died again?" She took another bite, looking mildly confused even as both hunters choked. Castiel did not understand why the two hunters were so surprised by the idea of resurrection. He himself knew that between the three of them, they had returned to the living more times than they had any right to.

"Rewind. You died?" Dean asked, looking horrified. This emotion Castiel could relate to. He knew that the way she lived her life was dangerous. He did not wish for the day where she would one day return to heaven, leaving him behind, especially now that he had been exiled. But then he thought about that night in the graveyard, those weeks ago. The strange changes to her being, to her soul. He smiled to himself; maybe he would not be left behind by her. Buffy had continued to speak, even as he had gotten lost in thought.

"Yep, a couple of times now. But I got better. It was after the second time when I met the Powers. Oh, and God was there too, they were having some kind of pow wow, but I'm not sure. A lot of those memories got mixed up when I got yanked back to the land of the living." She chewed thoughtfully for another minute. This was news even to the angel. The Slayer had seen his father, when he himself had not for so many years?

"After I died, they, I dunno, came to me. I don't really remember it all, and it was right after I'd jumped… and a lot of it got mixed up in my head you know? Anyways they came to me before I moved on, or I went to them on my way there, and we talked about how I was a Champion. One, of their champions at least, and how I had done well. My role over. Complete. I think that was what made coming back so hard. I was done. The Powers had told me so, and then I was ripped away from that. Back to this." All three of her companions looked at her, each with an expression of awe and surprise, that each was still so different.

"You really met Father, and his companions?" Cas breathed jealousy. He knew that she was a warrior of heaven, perhaps even more righteous and great than Michael, but to have seen Father… That was just confirmation. Buffy's mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"I think friends, or work place buddies fits more than companions , but yeah I did."

"Why did they bring you back?" Sam asked. Buffy sipped at her drink and shrugged, looking into her glass. Castiel knew that this was painful, even if she pretended it wasn't. He could practically hear her soul screaming out to him for relief. To carry her back to her eternal rest. She finally looked up at them.

"They didn't care enough to make me stay. I was, am, a damn good force in the good fight. Averted a lot of apocalypses in my day. I guess I still kinda do, in between the endless piles of paperwork and bureaucracy. So they let me get torn back down to Earth and swung me right back into the middle of the war against evil. And here I am." Buffy gives them all another slow smile, even as the three men gape at her; once again reminded exactly how inexperienced they are compared to her. Castiel watched the looks of awe on the two brother's faces. He knew that bringing the Slayer was a good idea.


	4. Slayer

When she was fifteen, Buffy became the Slayer. The one girl in all the world with the strength and power to battle the forces of Darkness. Destined to fight the demons and vampires and die young and alone.

When she was sixteen she finally understood what it meant to be The Slayer. Capital letters and everything. Sixteen was how old she was when she died. But she wasn't alone, and so she came back. When she came back, she was no longer the only girl. But one of two.

She was seventeen when she learned what it meant to be a hero. To sacrifice everything to stop the Darkness hidden in the face of someone she loved, but finding herself too late to stop it completely. Buffy died with Angel, banishing them both to Hell to save the world.

At eighteen she learned that not even the people who loved her could always be trusted; a lesson she thought she had already learned but hadn't quite remembered until it was her Watcher. She was eighteen the first time she lead an army against the demons she fought every day.

She met her predecessor for the first time when she was nineteen. The government couldn't be trusted and the First Slayer reminded her that even with her friends, The Slayer is _always_ alone. Buffy was nineteen when she finally let herself use the capitol letters in her title; she was The Slayer.

She was twenty when she went to heaven. Never a question, not a doubt in her mind that death was her gift as she dove off the tower to protect her sister. Twenty was what she would stay after they tore her down and back into her coffin, into a prison of flesh and bone and sound and destiny that clawed it way out of the Earth, but stayed locked inside the Hell she'd been returned too.

She was twenty one when she decided to live again. Seeing that tantalizing bright flash of light, mixed with the burning pain in her chest Buffy clung tightly to the mortal coil until a veiny, dark version of her friend saved her. Held onto life even as she was forced to flash back to when she was seventeen and faced with the same choice. Twenty one when yellow crayons and a white knight stopped her from dropping into a new kind of Hell.

She'd been seventeen when she stopped being the Chosen One. At twenty two she built herself an army of slayers and lead them into battle. They managed to defeat the origin of Evil and seal it away for good. Now she was their General, her darker counterpart finally a true sister in arms even as she was reminded again that even with friends, The Slayer was always alone.

She was twenty five when her soul tore in two, Angel's final death punching her in the gut. She never got to say good bye, or tell him about how she'd been lying that night about her cookie dough, she just wanted him far far far away from the danger of the First Evil. Buffy never forgave her Watcher for denying her the chance to save him.

Buffy was twenty nine and still the leader of the slayers when the magic that built Dawn finally failed, and her sister faded away in a flash of green light. She hadn't felt so helpless since the Cruciamentum and her Watcher's first betrayal.

She was thirty when Faith died. Her sister slayer had died as she lived, fast and violently. Robin grieved with her, but her old friends saw it as a way to try and push their way back into her inner circle. When she said no, they sidelined her.

Buffy is thirty four now, looking for all the world like she's twenty and nothing more than a college student. In one hand is the Slayer Scythe, still hers for all of Kennedy's manipulations and schemes, and Mr. Pointy held tightly in the other, a reminder of her sister Slayers and not the proteges she sends to away to fight and die. In the back of her mind she can still feel the warm traces of a heaven she knows is now denied her, and with her eyes she sees the tall trenchcoated figure of an angel with stunning blue eyes and an inclination for Free Will; even if he was currently possessed by a demon nearly as sadistic as Angelus. She privately believes her own rebellion rubbed off on Castiel long before the Winchesters ever got to him. God stands below her, waiting for the Darkness. Buffy tenses as she feels Amara's power shift and change, coming closer and closer; God's power shifting and changing alongside him. A feral smile crossed her lips.

Buffy is the longest lived slayer in history. She saved the world a lot. She's thirty four and not nearly close to being done yet.


	5. Stay?

Buffy sat with him on another rooftop. With the Darkness defeated, Buffy had other duties to return too. Castiel knew he was going to miss the slayer.

"Those boys. They don't seem to trust you so much anymore. They love you, but they don't trust you." She observed suddenly, her voice breaking the easy silence they were sharing. Cas shrugged.

"No one really expects an angel to set the world aflame. And yet, that is what I did." Buffy doesn't even glance over at him. He's gotten better at interpreting human behavior, better at understanding silent cues. He answered her unspoken question.

"I made some bad choices. I tried to make myself God, and caused a lot of pain and death and suffering for it. I became human for a while after that. And now, Lucifer is free once more because of me." He summarized succinctly. Buffy glanced over, her eyebrow raised.

"And most angels hate me now. Heaven, my heaven, has been in more turmoil and trouble in the last five years than is has had since The Beginning. They call me a traitor usually." He shrugged, pushing away the feeling of sadness that came with the topic the way he noticed Sam and Dean always did with their pain.

"Maybe they are right. But I know I did what I thought I had to do." Buffy wrapped her arms around him, surprising Castiel.

"The world's still spinning Cas. I think you did alright."

Then Castiel found in within himself the courage to do the one thing he always wanted to ask, but never did.

"Buffy, will you stay?"


	6. rock might be dead but love isn't

Buffy folded her arms, green eyes narrowed cooly at the suddenly very guilty looking fivesome. Castiel's stomach clenched, and he resisted the urge to duck his head down. The look on the Slayer's face bore no comfort, irritation and cold fury radiated off of her. Castiel and Lucifer shared glances, two enemies suddenly united by the same fear. After all, the scene she burst in on did not look good for them. Sam sprawled across the floor bleeding from a cut on his face, Dean holding a gun in one hand, the binding cuffs in the other. Cas was holding a broken guitar above his head, ready to hit the Devil again and Crowley, well, Crowley just _looked_ guilty.

"Exactly what is going on here?" Her gaze moved from him to Dean, to Sam and Crowley; landing on Lucifer's current vessel for several seconds, before flicking back to Cas again. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't even move. But the presence of The Slayer filled the room, rolling off the blonde human in violent, heaving waves.

There is a very good reason why the supernatural world fears the name Buffy Summers.

"Just a little reunion, getting the gang together again. Celebrating our heroic victory over Amara and such. Did you miss the invite?" Crowley asked smoothly, although the slight bobbing of his throat betrayed his true feelings. Her lips thinned, and it did not take any practice in human behavior patterns to recognize how unimpressed she was by the thin excuse the demon had offered.

The infamous red scythe appeared with one easy twist of Buffy's wrist. Collectively they all took a step back. She raised one golden eyebrow.

"Try again." The order cut through the frozen silence. The men all tensed, the prey part of their brains screaming loudly as the apex predator in the room asserted itself. Even Lucifer looked cowed. And of everyone in the room, the archangel was the most likely to survive direct combat with the slayer. Everyone took a second step back, dropping weapons to the floor and subtly trying to straighten their clothing out. Cas has a sudden insight into the human saying of being caught with a hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Fine!" Lucifer throws his hands up, the binding cuffs dangling off his wrist like a demented bracelet. Sam and Dean exchange shocked looks at the devil breaking first.

"I'm back in the game! With the evil and mayhem and destruction. Sue me! I'm Evil. Capital letters and everything. Besides, little Miss. Slayer may have slayed the big bad First, but I made evil trendy. That bastard might have invented it, but _I_ perfected it." He groused, folding his arms across his own chest petulantly. Dean turned to the fallen angel.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked gruffly. The devil sighed and collapsed in a chair he conjured onto the stage.

"You and God made up. You forgave him, what would he think?" Sam scolded. There was a loud snort, and Lucifer, if possible, sank even lower into his chair, all loose limbs and defiance eternally etched into his borrowed face. Cas wondered how he could have ever believed that the younger Winchester and Lucifer were the same damn thing; perfect mirrors of each other. Celestial and human reflections of the same story.

No, they might have been cut from the same cloth, but Sam had been made into something entirely different than the Morningstar. Something that had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out. Something heaven still hasn't. Something some days he doubts even Sam and Lucifer grasp.

"I'm not especially interested in his opinion. Dear old dad, he finally apologized for abandoning me. And what's the very next thing he does?" The devil's voice cracked, hysteria slowly seeping into his voice.

"He ditches me." The laugh that burst out of him was distinctly wet, and Cas wondered if Satan understood grief.

"He ditched all of you too, by the way. He just rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara. He needed _my_ help, and he'd say _anything_ to get it. His words, your words, they mean nothing. Don't you get it? This is all meaningless. Heaven, Hell, this world. If it ever meant anything, that moment is past. Nothing down here but a bunch of hopeless distraction addicts, so filled with emptiness, so desperate to fill up the void... they don't mind being served another stale rerun of a rerun of a rerun. You know what my plan is? I don't have one. I'm just gonna keep on smashing Daddy's already broken toys and _make_ _you_ _watch_." Buffy groaned, and the scythe vanished with a second fluid twist of her wrist. Her aggression was instantly replaced with a tired annoyance that Sam and Dean sometimes applied to the other after someone has been particularly irritating. Usually when Dean refused to help with research or when Sam complained about Dean's music too loudly.

"Daddy issues? Really? That's why you're causing mayhem again? Face it bucko, nothing we do has meaning unless you _give it meaning_. Slaying, hunting, _living_ , all that is an endless fight. It's hard and it's everyday. We're never going to win. But we're never going to lose either. Of course it's all meaningless! So what? Lucifer, the humans you hate _so_ much have it figured out better than you!" Buffy groaned and massaged her temples.

"Just jump ship from that body and cause me normal problems, not the kind of issues that require the Red Witch to portal me halfway across the world at three in the morning. God's not watching. He doesn't care if you break his toys, you're not getting back at him. Trust me, my dad ditched me too. He doesn't care if you break the toys he doesn't care about. Don't make me slay you Lucifer. I'm letting you go just this once. I won't do it again." The slayer pointed one hand towards the door and with a bright flash of white angel grace infused light Vince Vincente collapsed to the floor, dead. Buffy wordlessly glared at Crowley and the demon vanished just as quickly.

"What the hell dude?" Dean growled out, stalking towards the slayer. Buffy held up her hand, cutting off whatever else the hunter was going to say.

"Not another word Winchester. I'm tired and I'm about two words away from slaying the next thing that annoys me. I need coffee." Buffy turned on her heal and abruptly left the way she came, only pausing at the door for a fraction of a second to glance back at Castiel.

"Well? You coming?" He didn't waste another second, scrambling to his feet and following after her into the dark streets of LA. They left the ruined theater behind them, left Sam and Dean, left the fight for another time. For now they walked towards... what Castiel isn't sure but towards something. It's far too late at night for anyplace that would serve coffee of good enough quality to satisfy a tired slayer to still be open.

Buffy strides ahead of him, and even with her shorter legs manages to stay in front of him. Silence stretches out between the two of them, and she hasn't looked back to make sure he followed since she'd told him to follow. But more than his unshakable faith in the Winchester brothers, is his unbreakable loyalty to the blonde Slayer. She didn't need to check if he followed. They both knew he simply would.

They walk into a bar, not much more than a hole in the wall but still leaps and bounds nicer than most of the places Dean and Sam usually frequented. She leads the way to a quiet table, and doesn't even look up at when she orders both a strong drink and a coffee. She glares at the raised eyebrows her order brings and the waiter wisely keeps his mouth shut and turns to Cas. After a frozen moment of hesitation, Castiel orders himself a beer. Even after all his time on earth, he has still yet to build the habit of partaking in human needs like food and drink. Their drinks arrive with a gentle clinking of glass and Buffy leans towards the table her eyes focused on him intensely. To his immense relief, all of her previous irritation seemed to have bled away, leaving behind only the exhaustion he could see ringing her eyes. Also something else, but he isn't sure what it is. Mostly he's just proud for noticing it at all.

"Why did you ask me to stay?" Buffy asked quietly. Of anything she might have asked, that was the one question he would not have expected from her. Not since she'd just smiled at him a little pityingly and walked away after they'd helped God and Amara reconcile almost three months previous. Since then, he'd had no communication with her. Not that he'd had much time to even try considering everything that had been happening between the Men of Letters and Mary Winchester and Crowley and Lucifer.

He frowns a little, considering his own response, unsure of how to answer. He could tell her he wanted another hunter around, but that wasn't exactly true. He could also say that they needed help with Lucifer, but that wasn't true either. Otherwise he would have called and asked her again more recently.

He figured, after all the mess with the leviathans and the sneaking around and the lying and the utter disappointment he'd caused, honesty is the best policy. Especially with Buffy. He couldn't bear it if she wore the same mistrust on her face that he sometimes still caught on Dean's.

"I... am not sure." Castiel finally admitted, the words tearing out of him. He really didn't. At the time he'd plucked up all his courage, bolstered by the fact that they'd survived the battle against one of the oldest and most primordial beings in the world, to ask her. It simply had felt like the thing to ask. Something he had wanted.

Buffy nodded slowly, a small smile spreading across her face, like his answer had actually meant something.

"That's all I care about for tonight. You can catch me up on everything else in the morning." Buffy inhaled her coffee, sighing happily as she set her mug back down on the warm wooden table top. Cas couldn't move, completely thrown by what he had just heard. Buffy leaned forward, elbows propped on the table, green eyes glittering with something he's pretty sure is amusement.

"So, Cas. Where are we headed next?"


End file.
